


Choices and Consequences

by sophoklesworld



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Civil War, Civil War AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-29 12:16:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6374440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophoklesworld/pseuds/sophoklesworld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The choice Tony has to make might not fix it. He doesn't think anything would be enough to fix this, anymore. But maybe he can <em>end</em> it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Choices and Consequences

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shadowcat221b](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowcat221b/gifts).



> I love both Steve and Tony and I am not choosing a side in this war. #UnitedWeStand
> 
> But still, I don't know what to say but 'embrace the pain'.
> 
> Enjoy reading!

They fought before. They’re good at fighting. But they’re also good at making up afterwards.

 

Tony loves those make-up sex sessions. Better than angry-sex. Angry sex is wild and rough (which is awesome). But their make-up sex is intoxicating. It tends to be slow and they drown each other in soft but hot kisses, trailing along jawlines and spines, reminding them of what they have, what they don’t want to lose. They try to remind themselves of what they've got, but also try to remind each other, that they deserve this. Tony knows they both have a problem if they need the reassurance so badly; especially after a fight.

Just because the sex is good, it doesn’t mean Tony likes to fight for it. He hates the fights. But he hates himself even more. For letting himself go down this road so far — with anyone else, Steve isn’t the fighting type. He stands up for what he believes, sure, but he never really _fights_ with people about it. His image is too intimidating and he’s too good at convincing people. Just not Tony, never Tony.

“You’re a challenge, Tony. And it’s good to have someone to disagree with sometimes. Life would be boring without a challenge.” Steve said to him once. “Bucky has been challenging me, before. But no one is quite like you.” Tony is sure Steve saw him closing off, because all he could hear was his father saying, “You’re a liability, Tony. You’re provoking and you’ll have it coming. It’ll serve you right, talking to people like that.”

But Steve had the right words, he always does in situations like these. “Challenges are good things, Tony. I wouldn’t want to live without them. They keep you sharp, keep your edges defined and form your character. You’re challenging me, and I love it. I love you. With all your facets.”

“You mean my flaws?” Tony snorted.

“I mean your flaws and your strengths. Your intelligence and your smart mouth, your confidence and insecurities, your abilities and passion. Just. You. All of you, forever.”

 

Another time, Tony didn't talk to anyone for a week. He closed off so much after a fight, it seemed to physically hurt Steve. He’d tried to talk to Tony every day for that week. But he didn’t get an answer, or a reaction at all. After a week, Tony finally, finally pulled him close, after Steve spoke in a pained and desperate voice.  
“I’d take every emotion you throw my way. As long as I get an emotion, Tony. I’d take love, I’d take pain. I’d take hatred. I’d take anything over nothing at all.”

 

The point is, they have fights. It’s what they do. Fight. Bickering over nothing, fighting over everything. But they also always, always make up.

At least that’s what Tony thought before. Now he isn’t sure. If they can ever recover from this fight.

The problem is, he doesn’t know how to _stop_ it. How can you stop a fight that started as an argument between the two of them, which soon enough involved all of their team, and suddenly, all of America? So many mutants, so many masked heroes, who could loose everything — because of Tony. Because he’s not only a wreck, but a train wreck pulling along everyone around him. That’s what he always does. He’s been growing up, destroying things — his dad’s inventions, dishes, anything — and later people. His dad started to drink, to throw glasses around, to yell at Tony and his mom. And then his mom cried and she looked at Tony with this sadness in her eyes. She still told him she loved him, but then his parents went away. And they never came back. Because Tony killed them. Because they left because of him. That’s how it started. And Tony is sure, that this. This is how it ends. Because he never could have nice things. He destroys nice things. Always has and always will.

 

Steve hasn’t been at the tower for weeks. Tony told JARVIS to keep tabs on him. He’s looking at the feed now. He hates himself for spying on Steve, but he did so much wrong already, this wouldn’t change anything.  
Steve sits in a conference room of a hotel together with Bucky, Sam Wilson and Scott Lang. They are arguing. There’s no sound. Tony watches for a while when suddenly, Steve starts to laugh at something Bucky says. There’s a jealousy flaring up in Tony. He kinda hates Bucky because he challenges Steve. So he punches the screen and it turns black.

He stares at the black monitor for a while. Until Pepper stands in front of him to inspect his knuckles.  
“I’m fine”, Tony barks and turns around, annoyed, typing away on another monitor.

The words and numbers he strings together don’t make sense at first, but soon enough he’s engrossed in his work, numbers filling up his mind — forming into an idea, something that can _end_ this — blocking everything out but the task at hand. It’s relaxing. It’s what he always does when the guilt of the real world lies too heavy on his shoulders, and it’s no different now. It helps, centers him. He might be lost in his work for days on end, but it’s and outlet, a distraction.

When he’s close to the end of the program he’s writing, there are thoughts trickling in about Steve, the government, the changes, the war. It’s painful to remember, like blows to the stomach, but he takes a deep breath and writes the last line.

His hand hovers over the enter button. Fighting with Steve like this is hard. He’s not made for it. It’s not like he could just hate Steve all of a sudden. So he just turns of his feelings. He hasn’t done that since college. But now he does. It’s a conscious choice he makes, because it’s the only thing he has left. The choice to suffer, the choice to block it out. He doesn’t think he has the choice to _fix_ it. He is long past this point. But suddenly he can _stop_ it.

He knows, this program would change things again. For the better or worse. He doesn’t know if it’s the right thing to do — Steve certainly doesn’t think so. But it’s the only choice Tony can make.

And every single one of his choices took him to this moment, to this place, at this time, with these options. Now, there is just another choice left to make. He prays it is the right choice.

Shaking his head, he presses enter.

 

 

The virus spreads fast. JARVIS is tangled with the internet, systems of any major company, hacked into HYDRA bases and CIA servers. He’s the perfect origin for a virus like this.

 

Tony sighs. _This is the choice I made. I cannot undo it_. 

“JARVIS, turn on CNN.”  
JARVIS doesn’t answer, but does as told. Tony can hear the disappointment in JARVIS’ silence. He doesn’t care. He can’t. Feelings hurt too much.

 

It doesn’t take long, until CNN pulls up news about _everyone_. Tony, Steve, Natasha, Peter, Bucky, Clint, Charles, even _Wade Wilson_.

 _The internet doesn’t forget_ , Tony thinks. His virus is just that — a virus. It doesn't make up information, it doesn’t paralyze any systems. It is harmless in that way; adapted to the system, the internet, as though not to hurt it, destroy it. It just pulls up all the information it could find, anywhere. Inconsistencies, deviations, names, dates. Uses it, combines the information it finds, forms profiles and uploads them onto every major website.

CNN and everyone else would now know who hides behind the masks wandering around town, around America. It was over. The war was pointless now. It was done.

 

 

*  *  *

 

 

“Why did you do that, Tony? I told you, we could find a way.” Steve’s voice breaks. He doesn’t yell. His voice isn’t angry. He sounds resigned, tired. And maybe a little disappointed.

Tony doesn’t answer. He sits in an armchair, a glass of whiskey in his hand. He maintains eye contact but his eyes are empty. He’s too calm. His eyes usually dance, because of a joke in his head or one he just said out loud, because Steve was amusing or for any other reason. They are cold, angry sometimes, but never empty. It is unnerving to see him like this.

It’s the first time Steve is back at the Tower. He rushed over here as soon as he saw the news, angry, and hurt. Now he’s standing in front of the man he loves, as beautiful as ever, who just made a giant fucking mistake. Steve wishes they could fix this. But how could they? There are more people that want to kill Tony now, than there were before. Steve just wants to take him somewhere no-one would find them — he’s still angry. But this is Tony, the man that hates himself so much already for every mistake he ever made, for every person he hurt in the process. Steve has a soft spot for Tony. He can’t just let this shit storm thunder over Tony. He wants to hate him, but love can be a devious emotion, it won’t let him off the hook now.

Tony is still staring at him with these empty eyes and it’s scary. Because it’s a look Steve’s seen on soldiers before. They never came back from it.

 

So Steve moves closer. “Tony, I know we’re not really on speaking terms. But please. _Please_ , can you talk to me? If you want you can punch me, but would you at least _move_?” He adds when Tony doesn’t show any reaction.

He wants to hate Tony, for everything but mostly for what he’s doing right now. Steve’s close to sobbing when he talks again. He cradles Tony’s face in his hands.

“Tony, my love. We can talk this out, we can fix this together.” Tony slowly blinks at him, focuses. Tony’s hand comes up to cover his, before he opens his mouth.

“Steve. I made my choice. It’s over. No more wars. I’m sorry. I can’t stand fighting you.”

His voice is hollow and still seems far away. There’s no feeling in Tony. It’s worse than ever and Steve hates that he can’t hate Tony. His vision becomes blurry and he pulls Tony into a short kiss, trying to revive his stare, without success.

 

He will have to figure this out later, though. He knows time is running short.  
Steve pulls Tony to his feet and drags him along. The elevator ride seems too long, with a too quiet and too unmoving Tony beside him. They get in the next best car, the Acura with the hood still open.  
Tony doesn’t even argue when Steve pushes him into the passenger seat, which means it’s _bad_.

Luckily, Tony still goes through the motion of putting on the seat belt without Steve having to tell him.

When they drive out onto the streets it’s hell. So many people, yelling, with banners. Steve knows they’re scared. Of the people living in their rows, that they never thought would be the people underneath the masks.

When they see Tony in the car, Steve and him become a target. It’s a riot.  
Steve needs a moment to find the button for the hood to pull up, and he only relaxes when it’s closed.

They get to the next corner before the glass of the windscreen shatters. Steve pulls his arms over his head and curses as he speeds up, trying to maneuver around the crowds and into emptier streets.

He turns to check up on Tony anxiously. Usually he’s the one cursing their bad luck.

Steve’s eyes connect with Tony’s and he hits the breaks. He thinks he’s screaming, and a pain is exploding in his chest. His hands fly to Tony’s face, to his throat, his fingers shakily looking for a pulse, even though he knows it’s futile.

“No, Tony, this can’t be happening. You can’t do this to me, you hear me? You _can’t_!” He’s shaking Tony’s head, his whole body, really.

His chest burns with pain, with anger and hatred. The need for _revenge_ is blooming in him, bleeding out of his heart like a bullet wound.

 

Just like the bullet wound sitting directly between Tony’s eyes.

 

 

*  *  *

 

 

Steve doesn’t sleep well anymore. He knows he won’t for a long while, maybe never. The picture of Tony is stuck in his head, all day and all night. He doesn’t need nightmares, because his greatest fear became his life. Tony’s face was beautiful that day. Skin white as snow, hair black as ebony, and bullet wound with bright red blood. It would haunt him forever.

Tony didn’t die at the hands of Steve but he might as well have. He will forever blame himself.

There isn’t anything left for Steve now, but revenge. It’s what he tells himself. Rationally, he knows there’s more. There’s a world that needs him, now more than ever. But Tony’s face is still fresh in his minds, and for now, it takes up every thought Steve has.

 


End file.
